cw: Grief, investigating a (naked) corpse

  Sheng watched the young priest leave, his straw hat hiding a frown of concern. There was no way he could speak to Flowing Silk now, not with the family and the Red Phoenix magistrate watching, and especially not with Flowing Silk shouldering the professional burden that only a funerary priest could carry.

  Funerary priests never quite fitted into society. You needed to be a certain kind of person to willingly accept the isolation that came with having one foot in the Deadlands and the separation of bone-white robes. But for all Flowing Silk did bear the weight with skill, right now all that Sheng could see was a man shutting down with grief.

  Such was the duty of a funerary priest - but for Heaven's sake he boy wasn't even twenty! That was too young to bear such a burden alone, especially when the deceased was clearly important to him!

  He was jolted out of his thoughts when the Red Phoenix magistrate produced a sheaf of papers and presented them to Sheng and Xiong, “I have a case brief, if you'd care for it, sirs?”

  The best thing he could do for this family was to help solve the murder. Sheng took the papers, flicking through the report with a trained eye.

  After the family were alerted by a scream from the bathhouse, they rushed in to find Silk Petal kneeling over Zhou Ren's body with the knife in her hand.

  She had been sent to take him fresh towels; only the housekeeping staff had a key to open the door from the outside. He habitually locked the bathhouse while bathing as he did not like people seeing the birthmark on his stomach.

  Zhou Tai and Hua, his daughter, were both in their rooms at the time; Tai's room overlooked the north and east roads, and he saw nobody moving there. "Big" Lo, the security man, was watching at the other side of the estate; nobody entered via the south and west roads either.

  There hadn't been anything recently to indicate that Ren had made new enemies, but their maid left them recently after the servants' room was broken into and Silk Petal was hired.

  “Who was it who found the maid with the knife?” Sheng asked.

  “Baozhai was first there,” he indicated the cook, “but all of the family were there fairly soon after they heard the scream.”

  Sheng nodded again, then handed the brief to Xiong, who was steadily ignoring the girl bouncing on his back poking him for sweets with ease of practice. He did, however, note an oddity with what they'd been given. “There is nothing in here about motivation for the killing.”

  “That's easy.” Wan scoffed, “Rumour has it that he made some inappropriate advances toward her.”

  Sheng thought of the expression on Flowing Silk's face and lowered his hat to hide how his eyebrows were trying to join his hairline, “Fascinating.”

  Xiong finally gave in to the girl’s relentless poking and handed up a brown paper packet of sweetmeats from a pocket. She took the packet, ate one, then piped up, "What about his sister? She kept going on about how useless he was. And he didn't like Lo either. Kept calling him big and dumb. He was always angry after he came back from the city."

  Sheng bowed to the child, “Most helpful. Thank you, miss..?”

  “This lovely, dignified young lady is Zhou Yi, sister of the beautiful Zhou Mei.” Xiong smiled up at Yi, then looked over to Mei. His smile wavered slightly but held before looking down at Sheng. The old man returned the smile with a faint nod. So both young ones had some variety of romantic entanglement here, hm? Even if Xiong's choice seemed as dangerous as any blade.

  “Did you want to interview anyone?” The magistrate asked.

  “Give me a moment to consult with my grandson, and we will see who we need to speak to.” Sheng replied as Mei walked closer with a hunter's smile.

  Mei raised her own arched and beautifully painted brow, “You could have also complimented how intelligent and deadly I am, but I'll let it slide. This time.”

  “I did not think I needed to speak of all your excellent qualities when you show them off far better than I could ever describe…” Xiong’s eyes misted over for a moment then he snapped back to normal.

  Oh, to be young again… Sheng shook his head slightly at the banter and headed towards the office, nodding to Xiong to follow. Xiong smiled weakly at Mei - not entirely unlike a spooked deer - before gratefully turning to follow Sheng, gently lowering Yi to the ground. Sheng paused to allow him to catch up, which conveniently let Sheng hear their conversation.

  “When did you arrive, Zhou Yi?”

  “Mei and me - no, Mei and I - came here for the holiday season so we could see Cousin Wan.” she replied, “I think Daddy wants her to marry him but she thinks he's an idiot.”

  Xiong hid a grin behind one hand, “I have to go talk to my grandfather now. Don't eat all of them at once, or you'll be sick.”

  “All of what?” Yi asked, turning the bag upside down to see if there were any left.

  Now Xiong grinned properly, “Never get older.”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  She looked confused, then bowed and ran off, arms trailing behind her, and started pestering Big Lo as Xiong caught up to Sheng and the magistrate.

  —

  When Flowing Silk closed the bathhouse door it felt like he'd been swallowed.

  The bathhouse it was warm and dark, the distant windows high above so clouded with age that what light they did let through was pale yellow and largely eaten by the wooden walls.

  It was enough to catch the lazy ripples on the surface of the soaking pool. There must have been a current then, and given the steam it was probably fed with hot springs.

  There was an alcove to his right with a door. Probably cleaning supplies. He didn't want to move.

  The steam drifted around Flowing Silk's bone white robes like the fog of the Deadlands as he walked past the washing stations. It had been long enough that the water had dried. Ren's robes were neatly folded on a bench.

  His footsteps were too loud in the echoey room as he walked down the side of the pool. He didn't want to look at the pale shape at the other end.

  There was a pile of towels halfway down. Kneel, lift them to check for bloodstains. None. Not even damp. Unfold them to check. Still nothing. They hadn't been used to wipe off a murder weapon, carry the body, clean up a crime scene or conceal a weapon.

  There was a thunk as something small slid out of the towels though. Flowing Silk's body didn't feel like his as he picked up - of all things - a mahjong tile. The South Wind. Wait, hadn't Sheng received-

  Something cold squeezed his heart. No. Not Ren being caught up in all of this too.

  Tuck it into one of your sleeve pockets. Keep investigating. No thoughts. Investigate everything first before putting together theories.

  That wasn't hard, it didn't even feel like he could form words in his mind, let alone his mouth.

  Nothing else in the towels, return them to the state you found them in. Stand.

  The water lapped gently against the end of the pool. Faintly red-stained drips ran down the edge from where the body had been pulled out of the water. Diluted. They'd been stabbed in the pool, letting the current carry away the mess.

  His eyes finally moved to the body he'd been avoiding looking at. Wriggly dusty brown hair that fanned out around his head just above his shoulders. He'd had it cut recently then, probably after a duel with Wan. That had been his usual excuse to avoid the noble conventions of letting it grow long, claiming it was acceptable to cut your hair as a mark of shame after a loss.

  Ren had always been good at using societal conventions to his own advantage.

  His skin, paler than Flowing Silk's own, was still as gorgeous as ever. There were no signs of bruises or struggle, and Flowing Silk hastily pulled back his hand when he realised he was brushing one finger down Ren's arm.

  Breathe. Don't let your eyes sting with tears, keep examining the body. You are an investigative magistrate. Solve the murder in front of you.

  He was face down, but someone had put a small towel over his behind for modesty. The legs were just as attractive as ever and also unmarked. Ren either hadn't seen or had known his attacker.

  In the centre of his back between his shoulderblades was a deep stab wound. Next to the body was a pearl-handled knife that matched the profile of the wound. That was strange, it didn't look like the kind of knife used for combat, more like a knife used for food. A careful tilt showed that the handle was engraved with a name - Hua. Ren's sister? It was possible that the murder weapon had been switched, but it was definitely long enough to reach the heart, and the profile was strange enough for a stab wound that it was unlikely to be a different weapon.

  Flowing Silk needed to see if there were any wounds on his front. Needed to see his face and confirm that it really was- no, needed to place the grave money. Then he could summon Ren and find out what he knew.

  There was no point in denial, he knew Ren's body well enough to identify him even without seeing his face.

  The priest took one of the spare towels and pressed it against his back to catch any blood that might spill out as he turned Ren over. His face was as beautiful as ever apart from the fact it was grey with death.

  Flowing Silk's expression drew into a frown. Wait, there was bruising around the eyes, perfectly circular, the size of the coins that were usually placed as grave money.

  No, nononono. Flowing Silk hastily used the towel to cover Ren's crotch and the dark birthmark that was the reason he always bathed alone, but more importantly he went for his sorcerer's supplies, fear thudding in his heart. Twelve candles in a circle, lit and unlit. Not even bothering to set up a warding circle because even if this was successful there was no way he was staying separated from Ren.

  "I am Flowing Silk Ribbon, priest of the Golden Phoenix. I call upon the power of the Twelve Immortals and the Golden Phoenix we both studied under." His tongue stumbled over the words, all the protocol that had been dinned into his head falling to the wayside with his urgency, "Zhou Ren, I call you back, by the power of my heart and the bond we shared, please, I need you to respond, please. Come back to me, I need to know that you're okay."

  The candles flared with Flowing Silk's chi, but nothing happened.

  "Please!" he begged, hands flat against the wood in the circle, sending his energy dancing through the candles, "By the Phoenixes who underpin the cycle of reincarnation, for the love we shared, Ren, I CALL YOU! PLEASE! ANSWER ME!"

  It was definitely working, definitely should have worked, but it felt like he was bouncing off a smooth wall.

  Fear gripped his heart. Ren's murderer had pushed coins against Ren's eyes hard enough to bruise to create the grave money. Then they'd escaped, taking Ren's essence with them sealed inside the coins. If Flowing Silk couldn't reach them then they'd sealed the coins inside their own circle, the darker side of Honour of the Ghost, the rituals that could imprison or even control whoever they held the Grave Money of.

  And now Ren was trapped inside those coins, unable to cry out or even reach the Deadlands.

  Suddenly white hot fury seared through Flowing Silk, catching the priest off guard. How dare they?! How dare they not only murder him, but imprison him too? The absolute insult that this man, who had been so chained by duty and family - who had loved nothing more than the freedom that came from shedding his family symbol! - couldn't be free even in death, was beyond bearing.

  The fury was so strong that it melted the icy detachment which had settled around him, Flowing's Silk's body finally feeling like his own again as he stood. Mourning later. For now he needed to find the murderer and get Ren back. Then Flowing Silk could mourn. Then Ren could finally be free.

  Flowing Silk had a job to do.

  He gathered the flames into his hand to have more light and inspected the walls for anywhere the killer might have entered through or hidden the grave money. The obvious place to check was the storage cupboard, but there was nothing under the cleaning supplies. Nor was there the telltale remnant of a Might of the God ritual on the inside of the door or even indications someone had cut through from the other side of the bathhouse. There were only two - well, three - possible ways in then. The door, wherever the water came from and wherever the water went to.

  At any rate, there was nothing more for him to see here. If he was going to get Ren's Grave Money back, he couldn't stay.

  "I'll be back soon." Flowing Silk promised before he let the white-hot fury fuel his steps and threw the bathhouse door wide, letting the worlds mix for a moment before being closed off once more.

  Patreon, which is a week and a half ahead.